


Lapsus

by Fann (Fan_Nehan_Shinzui34)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood, Dark Allusions, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Dubious Consent, Horror, M/M, Murder, Nonconsensual, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fan_Nehan_Shinzui34/pseuds/Fann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Thramsay drabbles/requests I had filed under my tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reassurance

_Thramsay request: Ramsay loses Winterfell and is on the run, but he manages to recapture his Reek along the way and that's all he REALLY needs._

 

The taste of smoke is still cloying on his tongue, the wind and the cold burning his lungs. His hands are sticky with blood where they rest on the reigns of his half-maddened steed. 

He has lost…everything. His companions had broken and fled, like cowards, his father’s allies had been traitors…and father…

_“Worthless bastard..”_ he had called him. 

He looked at him with those cold eyes, mocking him, and he’d howled, the final betrayal twisting in his gut, deeper than any knife.

Ramsay still can’t quite remember what happened next, grey eyes still boring into him with a chilling indifference, even as his sword had plunged in…over and over and over and over and—

But none of that mattered now, none of it all, he just had to get away.

He could hear them coming for him, hunting him, the voices loud and raucous, and he is hit with an uncomfortable memory of him doing the same, only just recently in fact, after his Reek had been taken from him.

Ducking a branch coated in ice, he reminds himself that none of that is important anymore. 

…

Night falls in the wood, and his horse finally collapses, it’s mouth foaming—

_None of that matters anymore._

and as it collapses, his companion lands on the ground, the thick snow muffling his fall.

He is nearly blue, his body stiff and rigid

_But they’re together now_

and Ramsay falls to his knees, crawling to him.

“It’s alright, pet. Your master is here now.”

His hands run almost gently through his hair

_It had been so lovely and soft when they’d first met_

then trails down to his face

_what a lovely smile he’d had_

and he laughs, his voice bitter and dry.

“My poor Reek. You must’ve been so alone without me to take care of you.” His hands wind themselves in the other’s stiff, lifeless ones and he murmurs almost to himself:

“I’ve been having such a horrid time without you.”

He buries his nose into his pet’s hair, whispering against his hair.

“I’m sorry that I let them take you from me. But I promise you, it will never happen again.”

_He’d made him more beautiful than he could have imagined his perfect…_

He steadies himself, turning the blade inward, the sharp burning in his chest the last thing he feels, the blood spraying across the frost painting it with his memory.


	2. Sluggish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> : I shall request something that involves blood coming out of the mouth. Maybe from when Ramsay broke Theon's teeth.

The cold was seeping in.

Theon was uncertain of how long he it had been since the world had ended, the pounding in his ears making it near impossible to think.

He feels the blood flow out of his mouth with only the vaguest awareness, but as his eyes steadily comes into focus, he realized he wasn’t alone. It took him several moments before he understood why that thought filled him with dread.

“You had such a pretty mouth.”

He struggles to move, arms twisting and tugging only to realize he’s bound tightly against the table, the rope digging deeply into his skin it takes him a moment to get any feeling in them at all.

“Always laughing weren’t you?” The Voice is getting closer, and he could see it out of the corner of his eyes, that one whom he’d thought he could put his trust in, the one who had vowed to help him.

He feels a large rough hand, grasp his, cold steel pressing against his skin.

“Not laughing now are you?”

The press of the knife cold and burning at once.


	3. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My own. 
> 
> _Hybristophilia_ : Sexually aroused by people who have committed crimes, particularly brutal ones. Ramsay/Theon. Modern. AU.

Theon let the television’s static wash over him, abandoning the small cup of coffee he was bringing to his lips. 

"Goddamit. The tv’s at it again." He listened to the clerk bang on the set for a moment before rising, leaving the tip on the table before heading to the counter.

"It’s a damn shame, isn’t it?" the clerk says as Theon hands over the cash. Distracted, he glances up as the man gestures at the warped television screen, displaying a quivering headline detailing the latest disappearances and the string of reappearing bodies in various mutilated states along the river. "I hope they capture whoever this sick bastard is."

Theon nods in disinterested agreement, his hands quivering as he looks more closely at the set, as the announcer warns the viewers that what they’re seeing may be considered graphic.

They’ve of course chosen the least gruesome of the Dreadfort Slasher’s work, but he still feels a shiver run down his spine when he catches a glimpse of the grainy photographs.

"….I hope he gets twice what he did to those poor women." Theon hears the voice fade in again, and realizes he had been staring harder than he’d meant to. Throat thick, he only gives a fumbling nod, before abandoning the counter and heading towards his car.

……..

It is an impossibly long drive.

…..

When he gets home, he sees a note on the kitchen counter. His mouth twitches slightly, as he, with trembling hands takes it. Breath quickened, he goes about the kitchen, set on preparing dinner.

Onions.

Carrots.

Broth.

A knife to cut the vegetables.

The only thing missing is…

For a second he only sits there, fists gripping against the counter. He has been working down there all day. 

….

Slowly, he rises and makes his way down towards the basement.

….

When he opens the door, Ramsay turns to him, that ever sure smile upon his face.

"I needed to get the meat out of the freezer." Theon hears himself say as if from far away.

The floor is slick and warm as he steps further in, and Ramsay gives a soft chuckle at his dazed appearance. 

His face is splattered in red, and blood drenches his arms up to his elbows. The air is thick with it.

Theon’s mouth fills with saliva and he falls to his knees as Ramsay approaches him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also published on my ff.net account. May or may not continue.


End file.
